


Come Alive

by nohbodyknows



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Heinoustuck - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:03:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4073773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nohbodyknows/pseuds/nohbodyknows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dave was only six years old he was kidnapped by a mysterious man and forced into odd experiments. He manages to escape, but not before almost everything that made him human was taken away. He remembers nothing of his old life, except one name: John. </p><p> </p><p>((indefinite hiatus sorry))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_The tall trees cast long, dark shadows over the park you and John played at. The summer evening was quickly slipping into night as you enjoyed your time together. You were both so young and so carefree, not giving a single shit about the world. You can't even remember what you two were playing at the time, some stupid game where you had to throw a ball in the air and catch it. Stupid and simple, just like you and him. It was fun, until a gust of wind blew the ball into the forest. It wasn't a forest more as a thick bunch of trees separating the park from the road on the other side. Neither of you wants to go get it, so you used the only way to settle a serious decision as kids: Rock Paper Scissors. He threw rock, you threw scissors, and you cursed as you walked into trees. The ball landed in a ditch by the road. A car pulled up next to you. You weren't scared. Until the man got out and grabbed you and you screamed but his big hand was over your small mouth and John was so far away and you called his name over and over and his van smells like dead things and you cried and cried until everything turned black._

 

You were six at the time. You have no idea how old you are now. Fifteen? Sixteen? All you do know is since that day you were stuck in that guy’s fucking secret hideout or some shit, put under sick tests like some animal. You are his toy for him to let out his sick fantasies on you. You were cut open and stitched back up and things were put in places they shouldn't go and you looked hideous. Once you caught your reflection on a puddle of water on the cold concrete and almost vomited.

 

Right now you sit on the floor, chained by your neck to the wall. The room is dark save for a bit of light coming from the filth covered window opposite you. The room is big, it makes you think this might have been a work floor for a factory or something. Old machines covered in dust are scattered about the room. Next to you are a couple of food dishes, but you haven't used those in years. A while back he did something to you so that you no longer need to eat. You don’t know how that’s humanly possible, but you guess you're not that human anymore.

 

You know he's coming for you soon. This is going to be his grand finale, the one he's been talking about for weeks. What scares you is what's going to happen afterwards. Will he kill you when he’s done like some diseased animal too sick to save, or will he force you to live in whatever hell he's going to create. You beg for the former.

 

At times you wonder why no one has come for you. People had to have noticed you've gone missing. You had a friend. John. Has he missed you, or has he forgotten all about you, abandoned you like an old childhood toy? He's been the only thing you've been able to remember through all the torture you've been through. Everything before that is gone: your family, your home, even your own name is lost in the tortured void of your mind. But now even he is starting to seem like a dream. How can anything besides this Hellhouse exist?

 

Heavy footsteps come down the hallway. You close your eyes and wait as the door opens and he unchains you from the wall, holding it like a leash. Shakily you get to your feet and let him drag you into the room you're all too familiar with.

  
  


The metal under your bare scarred back is freezing. Leather restraints hold you down. The man stands above you, scalpel in hand. No anesthesia, no numbing shot, nothing, just the sharp pain as the blade slices down the side of your face. You've taught yourself not to scream, that only makes it hurt worse. You just grit your teeth and wait for yourself to pass out from the pain. You do eventually, but not after a slice had made its way around your entire face.

 

You wake up, not on your back as you were before, but on your stomach. Everything looks dark, like a shade had been pulled over your eyes. You try sitting up but your back screams in pain. Your vision is tunneled and you can't see what is causing the ache. The man appears in front of you, gleaming with joy.

 

"It's done" he says

 

You try to speak but find it incredibly painful to move your jaw as well. What has he done? Your hands aren't restrained. You reach up and touch your face. It feels like one of those creepy old doctor masks has been fucking sewn onto you. Carefully you try to sit up again, biting your lip through the pain in your back. You touch your body to see exactly what he did to you. New patchwork clothes have been put on you, like a mix of a suit and t-shirt. Feathers were put into your neck like a black boa. Your entire left arm was covered in feathers too with claws on your fingers to top the whole damn thing off. Your feet looked like talons. You reach behind you, putting together what could possibly be hurting your back. Wings. Fucking wings. He turned you into some freakish bird mutant. Suddenly the pain isn't that bad. You've reached a whole new rage and hatred toward the man. He was stupid to not restrain you. You leap off the table and shove him to the ground. You feel stronger than you have in years. You raise your clawed hand and shove it down into his gut. You want him to feel all the pain he made you suffer through your whole life. You claw deep everywhere you can, his arms his face his neck. But you don't kill him. No you leave him laying there with gouges on his chest and a hole where his liver is supposed to be.

 

Then you run. You bolt down through the doors and down the hall. You see a window, you see sky beautiful sky. You don't slow down you speed up and barrel through the fragile glass. You spread your new wings and glide down two stories to the ground.

You did it.

You're free

  
And lost. 


	2. Chapter 2

The factory was on the edge of the city. You wonder how you're gonna make it through without being noticed. If anyone finds you they'll call animal control on you or the government and you’ll be put under more tests. You cannot have that happen. You decide the best way to stay hidden is to travel by rooftop, no one ever looks up there. You run towards a building on all fours, you haven't properly walked anywhere in years. A drain pipe runs along the edge of the wall. Carefully, you shimmy your way up and climb onto the roof.

 

The view is amazing, so much different than the concrete walls of your old room. The moon illuminates the city, shining down on the skyscrapers. Far away you can see a quiet little neighborhood next to a beautiful lake.

 

You want to imagine that, if your life wasn’t so rudely interrupted then you would have lived here and enjoyed this city. You probably lived in one of those houses down there, ready to go to a school and play at the park with your friends.

 

The park.

 

John.

 

You know what you have to do now. Maybe the two of you lived near that park, maybe you can find him again. You stand on the edge of the building and leap onto the one neighboring it, running until you reach the end of the city. Below you was a few apartments and random businesses. You crawl down the fire escape of one the apartment buildings, peeking into some of the windows. One of the rooms on the third floor catches your eye. You peek in the window and see a man sitting on a worn couch, sewing something that looks extremely suggestive. Weird. You slide down the rest of the way and land in an alley. You peek out at the thankfully empty street. You can see the neighborhood from here. It’s so close.

 

You walk slowly, close to the side of the buildings, hidden in the shadows. On one of the walls is a large bulletin board full of pictures of missing kids. Maybe you’re on there. You look around you before you get to work skimming through the pictures. You rip them off one by one trying to remember what you looked like all those years ago, you know for a fact you look nothing like that now. Your hair, it was blonde then, not the raven black it is now. You were tall, still are. You have to be here you have to. You grasp an old, stained piece of paper in your hand. On it is a happy, smiling kid with white blonde hair and deep red eyes. You. It’s you. The name is smudged but you know it’s you. Now you have something to go off of. You slip the paper into your shirt and keep going.

 

Five minutes later you’re in the neighborhood, hiding in someone’s hedges. All the houses here are monotonous, nothing stands out to you. The park has to be around here somewhere. You sneak out from your hiding spot (destroying the poor guy’s bush in the process) and run down the street. You figure speed is better than slow and steady right now. If you run fast enough they can't see you and you get there quicker: win-win.

 

There it is. At the other side of the neighborhood lies the dreadful park that you've dreamed about for years. The trees still line the edge, but at least now they put a fence around it. Someone sits on one of the swings. He looks about as old as you think you are. He sits facing you, his head down, staring at something in his hands. You stare at him for a moment, wondering what someone is doing in a park in the middle of the night. He lifts his head up, looking around. Now you can get a good look at him. No, that’s not right, it can’t be. His hair is dark and his eyes are icy blue and those little buck teeth are still there and it's him. It’s John. You forget all about the fact that you should stay hidden and walk towards him. He stares at you, his eyes wide and starts backing away. He doesn’t scream, poor guy is probably mute with fear. He backs into the fence behind him and starts panicking.

 

“S-Stay b-back!” he shouts at you. “I mean it!”

 

You stop about three feet away from him. He’s so scared, just like you were. You don’t want anyone else to feel the fear that you did. You pull out the piece of paper in in your shirt and show it to him. He stares at it for a second before he recognizes what it is.

 

“Did- did _you_  take him?” he sounds angry, but you're grateful. At least he remembers you.

 

You shake your head and point to the boy on the photo, then point to yourself. You can tell he’s confused by little furrow of his brow.

 

“Dave?” Dave. So that’s your name. You nod and try to come closer to him. He lets you but doesn't let his guard down. You look down at what he’s holding in his hands. It’s a piece of paper. John notices you staring at it and holds it out to you. You grab it with your normal hand and look at it. It’s a picture of the two of you, smiling next to each other in a house. You can’t remember the last time you smiled.

 

“That was taken a few days before Dave- I mean, _you_  went missing.” you look at him, but he’s staring at the ground. “I- I never forgave myself for that day. I always thought that it was my fault you were gone because I threw the ball too far and-” He takes a shaky breath and looks at you. “I’m sorry.”

 

You shake your head, trying to tell him he doesn’t have to apologize. He walks up to you and puts a hand on your mask. “How did this happen?”

 

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. Even if you could speak you don’t want to retell the horrors of what you’ve been through. You hold out the picture he gave you and point to it.

 

“What? Do you want to go here?”

 

You nod.

“That’s my house. It’s right down the street. Dad’s not home so that won’t really be an issue, for now at least. Come on.” He grabs your hand and you feel safer than you’ve felt in years. 


	3. Chapter 3

You crouch on John’s kitchen counter, feeling extremely out of place. He’s wetting a towel to clean of the blood and dirt you've acquired from many bathless years of confinement. Gently, he takes you arm and starts cleaning you off. The rag turns brown almost immediately. You're disgusted with yourself. How is he not?

 

Twenty minutes later you're looking somewhat decent, save for the scars and feathers and wings on your back. He throws the washcloths in the washing machine and comes back to you.

 

“So, um, are you hungry? Can you even eat with that thing on?” he asks.

 

You shake your head no.

 

“I wish you could talk to me. Can you take that mask off?” he reaches towards you and you back away. You don’t want him to see your deformed face. You point to the stitches, using them as your excuse to keep it on.

 

“Okay then,” he looks around and smiles. “I have an idea!” he leaps off the counter and runs into the other room. He comes back with a pen and paper. “Here.”

 

You take them in your hands and wait for him to ask a question. Shit, do you even remember how to write? Oh well, you're just gonna /wing/ it. Pun.

 

“I’ll start off with something small.” Thank God. “Does all of that hurt?”

 

You scratch out a very sloppy _yes_.

 

“How did that happen?”

 

_start small_

 

“Are you tired?”

 

_not really_

 

“When’s the last time you ate?”

 

_cant remember_

 

“How can I help you?”

 

_stay_

 

He smiles a pitiful smile. You want him to knock the pity shit off. You're not some wounded puppy that needs to be protected. You hop off the counter, startling John, and walk into the other room. He follows you.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

You ignore him and keep walking. You head upstairs. Down the hall you see a door with movie posters on it.

 

John caught up to you, he’s panting. Do you really move that fast?

 

“That’s my room.” he says and opens the door, inviting you inside. Even more poster line the walls. A stuffed bunny lays on his bed and a computer sits on a desk in the corner.  You wonder if your room would have looked like this. What would your interests have been? What you you be doing with your life?

 

Your existential crisis is momentarily interrupted by a loud ding from John’s computer.

 

“Sorry, that must be Rose. Only she would be up this late.” He goes over to the computer and sits down.

 

You write _rose?_ and shove the paper in his face.

 

“Oh yeah, she’s one of my friends. I think you would like her. She’s nice, but really weird. For example she messages people at three in the morning. She sent me a link to something, one second.” A few seconds of beeping and typing later he steps away from the computer.

 

“Dave, I think you attracted a bit of attention when you got here.” he points to a picture on the screen of you, sitting in a hedge with a caption that reads: Freak Mutant Found in Local Neighborhood.

 

No. No no no no no. How could you have been so stupid! Of course someone was going to see you. Everyone’s going to see this /he’s/ going to see this he’ll find you again and take you back no on this can’t be happening. You grab at your head, trying to calm yourself down. You killed him. He’s dead. He can’t hurt you now. But the paranoia lingers.

 

Underneath all the voices in your head you hear someone calling out a name. Your name.

 

“Dave!”

 

You look up to see John staring at you. Why is he upside-down? Oh, you’re on the floor. He helps you sit up and puts his arm carefully around your shoulder.

 

“You’re okay. I’ll keep you safe. No one will find you.” he says calmly.

 

You belive him. It feels good to place your trust i someone after having it without a home for years. You’re not sure how long the two of you are sitting on the floor before you hear him snoring. Adorable. You pick him up and set him on his bed. What now? You don’t need to sleep, you can’t eat. Maybe you should just walk around, see what you missed in the last few years.

 

You walk out in to the hallway. There’s three doors besides John’s room. The first one is locked. That must be his dad’s room. What are you gonna do when he comes beck? How the hell is he going to explain you to him. “Oh hi dad this is my friend from 8 years ago who was kidnapped and tunred into a freak but it's okay because hes my friend now.” Thats not gonna work.

 

The next door you open is linen closet. When you open a stack of precariously placed towels fall on you. You shove them back somewhat neatly and quickly shut the door.  The last door you open is a bathroom. The room is plain and simple. If it weren't for the covers over your eyes you probably go blind. On the counter are two toothbrushes and an open tube of toothpaste. Some shaving cream sits on the corner next to a razor. You look up into the mirror and gag. You’re- you’re /hideous/. How can he even stand to look at you? It’s the mask. The stupid mask made just to horrify people with the stitching making everything almost ten times worse. You have to get this off of you. You snatch up the razor and start hacking at the stitches. It hurts, oh God it hurts. Blood drips onto the white counter. You start to feel woozy, but you can't just pass out this time, you have to get it done. You groan in pain. You’re almost there. Just a few more-

 

“Dave! What are you doing?” John yells at you from the doorway. You can’t see him. All you see is red. You can hear him run over to you and rip the razor out of your hand. A warm hand touches the side of your cold face. “Why didn't you let me help you?”

  
  


Because you’re horrifying. Because he’d hate you. You want to say so much but can only manage a pained grunt. He grabs a towel and mops up some of the blood. Then takes the razor and finishes what you started, albeit, a lot more carefully than you did. Soon, he takes the mask in his hand and pulls it off of your face. A sick noise echoes through the bathroom. When real light hits your eyes for the first time in years you shut your eyes tight. You hear the clunk of the mask falling in the sink.

 

“It’s okay. You can open your eyes.” he tells you. Little by little you open them, fighting the blinding white light. John is standing in front of you. He doesn’t look scared or disgusted at all, no he looks concerned. He cares about you. You look into the mirror next to you. Your skin is grey and patchy. Your hair is caked in blood and dirt. Your lips are cracked and your eyes are red. Not just the tired kind of red but your irises are actually red in color. Were they like that before? He opens up the medicine cabinet and starts pulling out random bottles. He’s stumbling. Why is he so nervous? Oh right, a monster is standing in his bathroom. He takes out a large brown bottle and some cotton balls.

 

“Alright, um, this might sting a little bit.” He pours some liquid on the cotton ball and dabs it on the remnants of your stitches. You hiss in pain, but try not to push him away. He’s helping you, he’s not trying to hurt you. He mutters words of assurance as he cleans your wounds. Once he’s finished he throws away the now brown cotton balls and grabs your hand.

 

“Now that you can talk, uh, do you want to?” he asks. “I mean you don’t have to I understand whatever happened was probably extremely bad and you probably don’t want to relive old memories and stuff but-”

 

“Shut. Up.” You force out of your scratchy throat.

 

“Okay. Sorry.” Shit you hurt his feelings. How do you do the friend thing?

 

“I’m tired.” you say even though your not. You just want to lay in a warm bed with actual blankets and pillows.

  
“Alright.” He leads you back into his room and helps you lay down. He tucks you in like your 5 years old again. You love it. For the first time in years, you feel loved. 


	4. Chapter 4

_Your dreams are the same as they always are. Just one indistinct nightmare after the other. Red. The red of your blood, of your eyes, it seems like you the human manifestation of the color. You hate it. You want it to go away._

_By some miracle your wish comes true. A breeze of blue blows the nightmares away. In the middle of the cerulean vortex stands a boy, smiling and holding out his hand. You take it and all is calm. You look down at yourself and see no scars, no wings, no claws. You’re normal. If only it was real._

“Shit! Dave wake up wake up!” John shoves you awake and you almost have a heart attack. You spring out of the bed and look around. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. What the hell is he freaking out about?

 

“Dad’s home early, I thought he wasn’t coming home for another two days! He’s in the driveway right now. You have to hide.”

 

Fuck. You look around the room and decide under his bed is the best place for you to hide. It’s a bit tight with your wings but it’ll do for now. You hear John run downstairs and open the the big door downstairs. You hear the vague sound of voices. You then hear footsteps going upstairs, heavy ones followed by smaller ones. A door unlocks and something heavy is dropped on the floor.

 

“I’m going to take a shower then go to the store to pick up some more eggs. I’m baking you a bake tonight as condolence for my absence.” The voice is deep. It must be John’s dad.

 

“Alright sounds good. I’ll be in my room.” John sounds nervous, but hell you’d be too if you were hiding a literal monster under your bed.

 

You hear John come into the room and you hear his dad walk towards the bathroom. John sneaks a peek at you under the bed and smiles. Everything’s going smoothly.

 

Then you hear John’s dad scream.

 

Guess you jinxed it.

 

“Johnathan Egbert! What is this?” you see him march into the room holding a bloody razor. Shit, you didn’t clean up after last night.

 

“I- I- It’s-” he stutters. You can see his knees shaking.

 

“If there’s something troubling you I want you to tell me about it, not resort to- to this!” he says, concern obvious in his voice.

 

John quickly thinks up a lie. “It’s some bullies at school. I didn’t tell you about it because you were just about to leave and I didn’t want you to worry while you were gone.”

 

His dad comes over and embraces him. “Forget the shower. I’m going to the store right now and I’m going to pick up some Gushers, and bake those cupcakes you like. Alright?”

 

You hear a sniffle followed by a small yes. His dad walks out of the room and soon after you hear the big door open and close again.

 

“You can come out now, Dave.”

 

You crawl your way out from under the bed, minding your wings, and stand in front of him. “Nice lie.” you say.

 

“It wasn’t that big of a lie. I mean I do get bullied but not that bad.” he says. “Dad will probably be back in an hour. That should be enough time to clean up the bathroom. You don’t have to help if you don’t want to.”

 

“I want to,” you say. It will be nice to do something instead of just sitting there bored.

 

“Okay,” he smiles and leads you into the bathroom. You can understand why his dad screamed. Blood coats the entire sink and some spots landed on the mirror. You spot you mask hidden behind the toilet. It must’ve fallen there last night. You pick it up and hide it deep under the sink. John gives you a damp towel and the two of you start scrubbing.

 

The blood hasn’t dried all the way, thankfully, so it doesn’t take much to clean. You think about how concerned his dad was when he saw this, almost as concerned as John is for you. You wonder if your dad was worried about you when you went missing. You have to have a dad, and a mom. If they saw you, would they accept you like John did? Or would they think you’re just some rip-off? It’s like getting one of the janky Daves from the bargain bin at the Dave Depot, or one of the marked down Daves the day after National Dave Day. It’s like the man taxedermized the real Dave and you hope they don’t notice. “Feathers what feathers haha no that Dave is totally normal and ok.”

 

“My parents?” you say, your voice still raspy. “Where are they?”

 

He looks anywhere but at your eyes. “Oh, well, um, I didn’t really know your parents well,” Past tense. That’s not good. “They, uh, they died when you were four. My dad is the one who helped you and your brother out when they died. That’s how we became friends actually.”

 

“Brother?” you ask, holding out some hope that your whole family isn’t gone.

 

“Yeah, his name was Dirk I think. He lives in the apartments in town. He was really sad when you, uh, you know.”

 

“I want to see him.” You know it’s crazy, but you can’t stand just feeling like you don’t belong anywhere anymore. Maybe he’ll understand.

 

“Oh. I think his address is still on the fridge. We can try to sneak out tonight and find him if you’re up for it.”

 

“I am.”

 

John smiles at you and throws his rag in the laundry hamper. “There. That should be enough don’t you think”

 

You nod. “Where should I hide this time? Under you bed is too small.”

He thinks about it for a minute, his buck teeth biting at his lip while he does so. “I got it! You can hide in the shed in the back yard. Dad rarely ever does yard work and it’s pretty empty so it should be the perfect place. I’ll come get you tonight so we can find your brother. Sound good?”

 

“Yeah. Good.”

 

He takes your hand and leads you downstairs and out the back door. The shed is in the back of the yard against a fence. There’s a little window on the side that lets in light. Besides a lawn mower and a couple shovels it relatively empty. You go inside and take a seat on the floor. He waves to you and closes the door.

 

Soon.

  
Soon you’ll have your family back. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God this chapter sucks I'm sorry

You waited in that shed for what felt like hours. Probably because it was. He opens the door and pale moonlight spills in. He reaches out his hand to help you of the floor you were sitting on and you gladly take it.

 

“Your brother doesn’t live too far away, it should take about twenty minutes to walk there. You ready?”

 

You nod.

 

“Here take this,” he hands you a large red sweater, “It should hopefully cover up your wings so no one will be suspicious.”

 

You take the hoodie and carefully slide over you. Only the tips of your wings peek out from underneath. You're still a bit uneasy at the thought of meeting another person, especially one who you can barely remember. But the way John looks at you, blue full of excitement, is enough to give you strength.

  
  


The walk to your Brother's was quiet and uneventful. The streets were empty and only the occasional car tore through the peaceful silence between the two of you. Now you stand in front of a tall building, terrified to step through the door. John grabs your hand and walks in with you.

 

"Alright. If I remember correctly he should be on the second floor. It's been awhile since I've seen him, I wonder how he's doing." John talks seemingly nonstop as you walk up the stairs. You don't mind though, focusing on his words is distracting you from the nervous pit opening up in your stomach.

 

"This is it. Apartment 23. Do you want to do the honors?"

 

You stare at him. The fuck does he mean by honors?

 

"Okay I'll just do it then" he knocks on the door. Oh. That's an honor. Things sure have changed in the past few years.

 

The door knob clicks and you want to run. To hide away and never let anyone see you ever again and to hide like the monster you are. But John gives your hand a squeeze and you stay.

 

The door opens and standing before you is a grown man wearing nothing but boxers. Are those ponies on them?

 

"John?" The man, who is most likely your brother, asks "What are you doing here? It's like midnight get in here." He ushers the two of you in, giving you a strange look that you give right back.

 

Inside his apartment is a mess. The kitchen counters are stacked with empty containers, plushies are piled up in the corner, and for some reasons there’s a shit ton of swords just lying around.

 

"So," he asks, "who's your friend?"

 

"That's actually why I came here. Dirk, um, this is, uh, (god this is hard to explain) do you remember when, um-"

 

"I'm Dave, your long lost brother. Nice to meet you." You hold out your hand, stopping John's train wreck of an introduction.

 

He stares at you for a second before letting loose a sarcastic laugh. "Haha very funny. I ain't falling for another one of your shit pranks Egbert. If you're gonna stoop that low then get the fuck outta my apartment."

 

Suddenly pony pants seem a lot more intimidating. "It's not a prank." You hold out your hands, hoping not to get sliced by one those shitty swords in the floor. "We're serious."

 

"Serious my a- whoa what happened to your hand."

 

Oh right, your claws and feathers how could you forget. You shove the hand in the hoodie pocket. "What are talking about my hand is perfectly normal just the same as any other normal human being's."

 

"Bullshit. C'mere." He starts coming towards you. You don't like this. This is not how you imagined this no you're not scared you're okay it's not Him. It's not Him.

 

"Dirk, you're scaring him! Back off!"

 

Your brother steps away from you and sits on his old battered couch. "Someone please explain to me what the hell is going on before I call your father. Does he know about this?"

 

"No. Please don't tell him." John begs. "No one can know Dave is- well you might as well show him now."

 

Reluctantly, you take off your hoodie. You shake your wings a bit, they're aching from being closed for so long. You don't look at your brother. You don't feel like being gawked at right now.

 

"I've got to say. This is- I'm not really sure what this is." Dirk says.

 

"This is stupid" you mutter under your breath.

 

"Alright all jokes aside, I still have no proof that this is my real bro. For all I know this could be some random faker doing this for attention. John, how do you know this is Dave?"

 

You look at him, realizing that there wasn't really any proof. He just blindly trusted that you were his friend. You wouldn't blame him if he threw you out right now.

 

“I don’t know, I just, /know/.” Wow. Very believable.

 

You brother looks at you. Then back at John. The silence is killing you. You wish he’d just kick you out or something besides glaring at you.

 

"Come here." he beckons you over. "Don't I'm not gonna hurt ya, I just wanna see something."

 

You walk over to him. He lightly touches the side of your head and turns it towards him. "Holy shit it is you."

 

"How do you know?" John asks.

 

"He's got a little birthmark right here. Oh my God it's actually you. I-" instead of finishing his sentence he scoops you up into a hug, literally. He lifts you off your feet. "When mom and dad died I had no idea what to do anymore and then you were gone and I was alone I had no one but you're here now I can't believe you're actually here holy shit."

 

"Can't. Breathe." You wheeze and he puts you down.

 

"You have to tell me everything. Who took you? What the hell did they do to you? I swear I will personally tear them apart if they so much as show their face in this town."

 

"I killed him."

  
"You killed him?" John sounds horrified.  you never really did tell him what happened to you. You guess now's a better time than any. Time to tell the story of Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been stuck in a rut for the past few days sorry if I don't update as much as I normally do.


	6. Chapter 6

It’s so painful. Reliving every moment of that horrible place makes you feel like you’re there again, chained up and waiting for the next torture session. Every once in a while John lets out a horrified gasp, but your brother stays silent. You like that.

 

You get to the part that led to your escape. The part where you killed Him. Why does your head hurt? Why is everything red? You feel so, angry. At Him. At yourself. At the world for letting this happen to you. Are you screaming? You can’t tell. All you feel is the burning hot rage bubbling up inside you. The images of that night repeat in your head over and over and over again and everything turns black.

 

\------

 

You wake up lying on your stomach. For a moment you panic, thinking you’re back in that prison. But the pony-shaped night-light in the corner reminds you that you’re at your brother's. You push yourself off the mattress and sit up. You fold your wings around you like a blanket. It feels safe in your black fortress. Just you, and whatever the hell that plush-butt thing is. You kick it out of your fortress.

 

“Hey, lil bro, you awake?” Dirk comes into the room, finally fully clothed. He sits at the edge of the bed a few feet away from your wing fortress.

 

“Where’s John?” you ask.

 

“I sent him home. Didn’t want his father worryin’. You were out for a couple hours.”

 

You remember telling your story, then not much else. “What happened?”

 

“You kinda spazzed out in us. Started yellin’ and throwin’ shit. It took awhile to calm you down. You scratched the hell outta my arm.” he points to a rather large gash on his forearm. “We’re lucky the neighbor didn’t call the cops.”

 

You don’t remember that happening. What if it happens again? What if you don’t calm down next time? You start to panic. You're shaking in your fortress of feathers.

 

“Hey, it’s okay.” He puts his hand on your shoulder. You flinch, but he keeps his hand there. “I’m sure it was just PTSD or something. I shouldn't've asked you to tell us all that. Shit’s hard to force down and even harder to remember.”

  
You nod, but you can’t shake the feeling that this won’t be the last time this happens.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short. With school starting it's hard to get time in to write. It will probably be a while until the the next update (again, sorry) but I will be updating my other story The End To Simplicity weekly, since I already have chapters written out for that. It's a zombiestuck story if you're into that.


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